


A Collection of Afflictions

by Pandamerium



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandamerium/pseuds/Pandamerium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things that have not been apologized for, or forgiven. There are things that have not been settled even between the closest of allies. There are things that happen without warning and become costly to the well-being of a nation. </p><p>These are afflictions, and they are examples to learn from, however hard they are to understand at times, and however hard they are to prevent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Collection of Afflictions

**Author's Note:**

> It is a headcanon of mine that the personified countries in Hetalia feel the chaos of their country within themselves. Whether it's a natural disaster or suffering inflicted by another country (expressed in the form of a noticeable wound and emotional pain), each personified country can feel it within themselves by extension. It creates a deeper sense of empathy for each character, which I believe also helps character growth.

The first time he felt the raw nature of destruction was in the early summer of 2002.

The small flame meant to burn a letter gave way to a winding river of devastating force that tore its way through the land. The negligence of one who swore to protect against the very thing she started led to losses on every level imaginable. Homes were destroyed, tens of thousands of acres lost in the dry summer heat... and he felt each individual life as it was stolen from the brave soldiers who refused to back down from its wrath.

It took a month to quell the entity that spread over one hundred-thousand acres, and it took even longer for him to remember how to stand correctly. He had been sent reeling, and he ached. He began to realize just how easy it was to feel every small ember that hit the ground; a cigarette butt or a match that hadn’t been put out correctly, or even just a spark escaping from an outdoor grill.

He had been unprepared, and he couldn’t make that same mistake.

-x-

His precautions apparently seemed effective, for he had not had a repeat incident since. Now, ten years to the day, he was only partly wary. After all, if he had passed a decade unscathed, there was reason to be optimistic for the future.

But the summers had become steadily dryer each year, and as June 8th slipped into June 9th, a sudden wave of dizziness overtook him. Lightning had hit in a midwestern national park, not taking its time to spread over eighty-thousand acres before the month was out. Having remembered the destruction from 2002, he believed himself capable, and his chosen response team proved swifter than the years before.

June 22nd rolled into June 23rd. The fire was over halfway contained and slowing, making it bearable for him to stand upright and handle a decent conversation. And he would’ve been able to handle the quantity of destruction the fire caused between homes lost and lives stolen - but he had been naive.

Three days later, he collapsed during a meeting with a fever of over 101 degrees.

_So naive._

He felt new fire racing up the backside of the mountains, engulfing anything and everything in its way. It reached the peaks before it spilled over, rolling down like a tidal wave to the town of Colorado Springs. Ash fell by the middle of the week, and the smoke could be smelled from the northern state border. The sky burned as red as the fire and the moon dyed orange at night. The haze and smoke made it nearly impossible for residents to walk outside without the aid of a protective mask.

On July 8th, his fever finally broke, and he woke up two days later to meet concerned green eyes. The owner of those eyes was pressing a cold compress to his face.

-x-

No matter how cautious one is, one will find obstacles even for the events that they’ve prepared 110% for. Last year should have taught him that and more. It had, on many levels.

But this year’s collapse reminded him that no amount of preparation could completely prevent the perfect conditions from forming. Strong winds rolling down the mountains to meet with the dry brush allowed the fire to hop through the trees, spiraling out of control over some homes, and leaving others untouched. The fire taunted him even in his restless sleep.

He woke up nine days after it started, once again to green eyes and a cold cloth. This time, he was awake enough to drink from a glass of water, albeit slowly and needing that extra set of hands to help him.

“This is happening more frequently,” he heard Arthur say as he set the (now empty) glass aside, turning back to look at him. “And it gets worse every year.”

As he opened his mouth to reply, he wished he hadn’t, so he wouldn’t have to use the hoarse, damaged set of vocal chords he now possessed. As if he’d been yelling for days.

“Better response this time.”

“Faster, yes. But better?” The green eyes narrowed slightly in thought, leaving it more as an open-ended question for him to consider. He frowned sadly, which caused Arthur to sigh.

“I know you’ve been focusing on work these past few years, which is surprising, and a great improvement, I daresay,” the Englishman began, “but you’re putting more work out towards the problems of others, and not realizing the work you need to do within your own borders..” The cold compress was set aside. Another sigh. “These fires are killing you, Alfred.”

He forced himself to sit up, despite how his arms protested and his vision swam. “They aren’t completely preventable.” God, his voice was scratchy.

There were a few moments of silence.

“Perhaps if you cleared away unnecessary brush, conditions would slightly improve,” the Englishman offered, sitting up straighter. “What isn’t a food source for fauna, and what doesn’t bring in profits can be trimmed away, becoming firebreaks for future fires. It’s certainly no solution, but I believe it could be a step in the right direction..”

Alfred wasn’t coherent enough to process that entire string of words, but he got the general understanding, so he nodded slowly. Which was a bad idea, if the sudden nausea was any indication, and he clutched his head to steady himself.

He felt unbearably hot to the touch; his jacket, shirt, and gloves had been stripped away sometime during his unconscious state (Arthur had probably done it; he was so diligent), so all he was wearing was his jeans. Yet it still felt too hot, and the bed was absorbing too much of his heat.

He felt a pressure on his shoulders, pushing him back down to the bed. “Lie down and try to relax,” Arthur told him, “we’ll talk about this when you’re well again.”

The cold cloth pressing itself to his chest, neck, and face soothed the burns under his skin, becoming the balm to quell this summer's internal affliction. 

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was based on the most disastrous fires in Colorado's history: Hayman Fire of 2002, High Park Fire and Waldo Canyon Fire of 2012, and the Black Forest Fire of 2013. 
> 
> I happened to be caught in the last two mentioned, and I didn't want to go into too much detail for the sake of too many resurfacing memories.


End file.
